Sunday, September 25, 2011

My own devices

This night is restless
The television is not able to remove me
From the uneasiness of my mind
With only a small handful of stars
To keep me company
I draw pictures in the negative space of things
Awaiting patiently yet again for the shift.
The pathways are converging
Always bringing with them change and decisions to be made
My back is aching from inadequate sleep
Knowing better than to fall in and out of dreams
In places where a deep sleep can never be found
This night is restless
It brings with it depth of thought that should never occur on a Sunday
Silent rooms amplified by the white noise of a fan
Buzzing worries around my brain
A centrifuge of my hopes and dreams confused
Into emotional indigestion.
I would crawl into my bed and pull the blanket of my childhood
Over my head but I cannot be left to my own devices tonight

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

imagined scenery

there is something elusive about that comfortable sunday morning
drinking coffee in quiet contemplation and shared laziness
fresh picked flowers to match growing smiles
sunshine falling through the windows
to illuminate the dance party of a million tiny particles of dust
arms wrapped around waists, as dishes are rinsed
a kiss on the back of her neck
to remind her she is still that same girl in his now creased eyes
i can remember what it was like to watch that play out,
drawing quietly on the floor by the sliding glass door where the light was best
but perhaps thats just a scene i created in dreams
either way, the memory smells of newspaper and fresh mowed grass
breaking my heart
and kissing it better all at once
like an emotional band aid, keeping frayed edges in place.


there are whispers on the lips of the universe
saying... sit still
embracing patience and calm
they are the arms that wrap around me
when the vastness of the ocean brings spiritual comfort
the worst of me does not quiet them
does not frighten them away with too many thoughts, emotions, words...
always with too many words
there are songs being sung just under audible tones
vibrations traveling along pathways to ears opening
straining to listen
to make out the meaning of intersecting roads
to make out what is elusive in the passing of time
there are hopes that go unspoken
they linger in the doorways of penetrating glances
the longing within the touch of a hand
that quickly pulls away
reminding me of the cyclical nature of things
as i await the pendulum to swing me back to start